‘Yes; a terrible cold left her with weakness of the lungs, and the doctors feared consumption, but thought that she might possibly outgrow it entirely if she lived in a milder climate; so Mrs. Howard left home and everybody she cared for, and brought Elsie to Santa Barbara. Papa has taken an interest in her from the first, and as far as we girls are concerned, it was love at first sight. You never knew anybody like Elsie!’ ‘Is she pretty?’ ‘Pretty!’ cried Polly, ‘she is like an angel in a picture-book!’ ‘Interesting?’ ‘Interesting!’ said Bell, in a tone that showed the word to be too feeble for the subject; ‘Elsie is more interesting than all the other girls in the other world put together!’ ‘Popular?’ ‘Popular!’ exclaimed Margery, taking her turn in the oral examination, ‘I don’t know whether anybody can be popular who is always in bed; but if it’s popular to be adored by every man, woman, child, and animal that comes anywhere near her, why then Elsie is popular.’ ‘And is she a favourite with boys as well as girls?’ ‘Favourite!’ said Bell. ‘Why, they think that she is simply perfect! Of course she has scarcely been able to sit up a week at a time for a year, and naturally she has not seen many people; but, if you want a boy’s opinion, just ask Philip or Geoffrey. I assure you, Laura, after you have known Elsie a while, and have seen the impression she makes upon everybody, you will want to go to bed and see if you can do likewise.’ ‘It isn’t just the going to bed,’ remarked Margery, sagely. ‘And it isn’t the prettiness either,’ added Polly; ‘though if you saw Elsie asleep, a flower in one hand, the other under her cheek, her hair straying over the pillow (O for hair that would stray anywhere!), you would expect every moment to see a halo above her head.’ ‘I don’t believe it is because she is good that everybody admires her so,’ said Laura, ‘I don’t think goodness in itself is always so very interesting; if Elsie had freckles and a snub nose’—(‘Don’t mind me!’ murmured Polly)—‘you would find that people would say less about her wonderful character.’ ‘There are things that puzzle me,’ said Polly, thoughtfully. ‘It seems to me that if I could contrive to be ever so good, nobody ever would look for a halo round my head. Now, is it my turned-up nose and red hair that make me what I am, or did what I am make my nose and hair what they are—which?’ ‘We’ll have to ask Aunt Truth,’ said Margery; ‘that is too difficult a thing for us to answer.’ ‘Wasn’t it nice I catched that big bull-frog, Margie?’ cried Dick, his eyes shining with anticipation. ‘Now I’ll have as many as seven or ’leven frogs and lots of horned toads when Elsie comes, and she can help me play with ’em.’